


Lights Will Guide You Home

by monimala



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: Set during late summer 2018, as Kyle tries to move on from Summer and Mariah waits for Tessa to get back to town.It’s been so fucking long since Kyle’s felt needed. Wanted. So, he says “finally” and he breathes her in.





	Lights Will Guide You Home

_“It didn’t mean anything.” “We were lonely.” “We both want other people.”_ These are the things they’ll tell themselves in the morning. When they’re shrugging on their clothes and barely looking at each other. While they’re stumbling out of the impulsively booked hotel room and running their separate ways. But right now? As Kyle pulls Mariah to him and kisses her? All he can say is, “Finally.”

He’s been wondering for so long. If Mariah is soft beneath her thorns—and she is. If she tastes as bitter as she pretends to be—and she doesn’t. No, she’s sweet. So damn sweet. Like her practical cherry lip balm and the fruity drink she had on the roof deck and all the hope she wants to hide from the world. Her mouth opens under his, her hands spread across his chest. He half expects her to push him away, but all she does is clutch handfuls of his shirt and pull him closer. Like she needs him, needs _this_.

It’s been so fucking long since Kyle’s felt needed. Wanted. So, he says “finally” and he breathes her in.

They kiss for ages. Maybe because it’s too exhausting to do anything else. They’re two cynical, world-weary adults who’ve been screwed over. Leaning into each other. Taking little sips and bites that grow more urgent with time. He buries one hand in Mariah’s rich red hair. She starts working on his shirt buttons. And still their lips stay fused, like there’s no air except what they’re sharing.    

They rushed downstairs to do this—do each other—but when it comes down to it, they take their time. It’s achingly, gorgeously, slow. Tender. Just the kind of sex you have with someone who knows all of your flaws and cares about you anyway. Mariah undresses him without judgment or commentary. Just a gleam in her gorgeous eyes. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but this time her appreciation of it is obvious. Because she explores every inch of skin she bares. And she breaks away from his lips so she can trail hers across his collarbone and his pecs and his abdomen. When her tongue touches his hipbone, he jerks forward so hard, he’s afraid he’ll put her eye out with his cock.

“Easy there, tiger,” she laughs, before lowering her head and licking long, tortuous lines everywhere but the exact spot where he most needs her mouth.

He’s never seen this side of her. The siren. The seductress. Maybe it’s a role she’s playing because that’s more comfortable than being herself. But he doesn’t think so. Mariah’s never put on an act for him, and she wouldn’t start now.   

“Hey.” He tugs at her hair lightly. Teasingly. “Are you okay with this?”

She sits back on her heels. Still fully dressed. Her lips swollen from their kisses, her pale skin flushed pink with want. So fucking sexy. “Do you really think I’d be doing this if I wasn’t okay with it?”

“No.” Because, unlike Summer, Mariah doesn’t play games. She likes to joke about all the shady shit she pulled when she first came to town, but she’s one of the most honest people that Kyle has ever met. She wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be touching him like this, if she didn’t want to be. And she already cleared up a few things upstairs. _“Sleeping with a man—you, for example—wouldn’t de-gay me,”_ she’d said with a roll of her eyes. _“I mean, hello, I was dating Devon and enjoying it before I had my quarter-life queer wake-up call. Wanting Tessa, missing her, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a six on the Kinsey Scale.”_

It was the “you, for example” part that led them here. That and a cocktail apiece and months of sexual frustration.

“Hey.” Mariah pinches his thigh. “Are _you_ okay with this?”

“Yeah.” He grins down at her. Easiest question he’s ever answered. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She lets him pull her to her feet. He helps her out of her clothes. Reveling in her the same way she reveled in him. Worshipping each bit of flesh he exposes with his fingers and his tongue. He actually goes lightheaded when he unhooks her bra, because her breasts are nothing short of miraculous. Heavy globes, capped by berry-pink nipples that he can’t help but kiss and nip and suck. Now it’s her turn to tug at his hair—and not so lightly or teasingly.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “ _Kyle_.”       

He could be cocky—he certainly _feels_ pretty cocky—and joke about how she’s equating him to the Lord. But the truth is, being here with her, like this, _he’s_ the one having a religious experience. Like most of the Abbotts, he grew up an Easter-and-Christmas Episcopalian. But now Mariah’s body is his church. The sounds she makes are his prayers. This is what being saved feels like, he thinks as they move backward toward the bed.   

He fumbles a little with the condom. _“You’re a boy,”_ he can almost hear Summer taunting. _“I want a man_. _”_ Then Mariah’s hand closes over his, helping him pull the latex taut. And she whispers encouragement, urging him on with her words and the generous cradle of her thighs clasping his hips. He _is_ a man, the little gestures tell him. A man she chose. A man she desires. But it’s more than that. This isn’t just about proving something to himself, about feeding his masculine ego. When he slides into her wet, hot, pussy and begins to fuck into her, he realizes what a gift it is. Every sigh. Every brush of her mouth against his. Every scratch of her nails down his back. He’s making love to his best friend. And he wants to make it last.     

_“It didn’t mean anything.” “We were lonely.” “We both want other people.”_

These are the lies they’ll tell themselves in the morning. Because sometimes, even for the most honest people, lies are easier than the truth.

 

 --end--


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